


The rain won't hurt me anymore

by Imjustsirius



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Angst, Battle, Character Death, Child Soldiers, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter - Freeform, Drarry, M/M, Major Character Injury, Nazis, Sad, Soldiers, Soviet Union, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25568050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imjustsirius/pseuds/Imjustsirius
Summary: When the two boys bump into each other in the Cardiff docks, green eyes meet grey and the meeting is never forgotten by either party.What they weren't prepared for, is for those same green eyes to meet grey on opposite sides of the battle in Warsaw, each on the receiving end of the other's gun.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

Harry James Potter was born on the 31st of July, in 1918. The male had become an orphan at age 5, parents dying from two deadly cases of typhoid fever, and Harry the lone survivor. He jumped from orphanage to orphanage, biding his time until he could go into the real world, join the war against Germany and Russia. As the war steadily grew, Harry had finally turned 18.

When he was 15, he met the most dashing boy with the queerest of names. Draco Malfoy, a vacationer from Russia. He made Harry's heart pound in his chest. Harry had accidentally met Draco down on the docks in Cardiff, bumping into him with a huge crate of newly caught fish, and spilling them.

"Dearest of apologies, sir," he remembered croaking out to Draco. His accent wasn't exactly posh... it was a mix. The boy's mum had looked at him like he was some foul little mutt. Harry'd adjusted his cap, and picked up the fish, going on his way.

Harry was drafted weeks later, undergoing months and months of rigorous training. He'd turned from a scrawny little boy with a locket on his chest, to the handsomest and brawny men, that same locket unchanging. It was the only picture he'd ever caught of Draco, by pure luck. He'd gotten it developed and bought an antique locket— about 5 dollars, a whole week's worth of work, but worth every penny.

Harry rubbed the now tarnished metal between his fingers, holding the gun by his leg. He tucked the locket into his uniform shirt, standing as the truck rolled to a stop. They were to be trying to take over Warsaw. The Russians had built a barricade around the entrance to the city.

Harry's eyes scanned their backs as they trekked into the city, boots crunching glass, and gravel. His hands were shaking with fear, not ready to leave his earthly body.

As they neared the barricade, Harry caught sight of a Russian soldier. He had the loveliest of blonde hair peeking out from beneath his helmet, and an oddly familiar face hiding behind the shadows of the brim. Harry felt his heart stop when the face upturned. "Him. my love." he breathed, breath catching in his throat. The feelings of unease and despair rose in his esophagus like bile. For the first time in being a soldier— Harry felt sick.

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Draco Lucius Malfoy came from a well off family in the South West of Russia. The little village near his big house was where all the interesting things happened, and from a young age the boy befriended the locals and learned small skills such as how to whittle with a knife and climb trees to get the best apples from the very top. His life was good for the first few innocent childish years.

Life for the boy was easy, and He would never complain.

The communism happening at the time didn't help much, and although he didn't miss the worried looks his parents shared, he was pleasantly surprised when, at age 14, they went to Britain for a holiday.

Well, his mother called it a holiday while Draco was old enough to know it was to do with his fathers job as the operational captain and owner of a transportation firm to provide artillery into Russia. He knew Lucius was here to make connections and find ways to strengthen his countries alliance, however small of a difference it would have made, In case the war, that was slowly getting more and more intense, reached a peak. It was being referred to a world war in the papers for a reason. And Russia was strong enough to gain alliances from all over Europe. Maybe then the war would end quickly. Or that's what he hoped.

They were walking along a dock down in Cardiff, the fresh air from the sea 'beneficial for Draco's lungs' his mother would say. He was slowly getting bored with the walking and wanted his father to come back and meet them already. Until in his case, he had bumped into a boy.

It took him a moment to realize that the boy had stopped the fish he was carrying and bent down to help but his mother pulled him up by the scruff of his neck and a hiss. Draco winced and looked apologetically at the boy as he picked up his spilled goods, and took the few seconds to observe his face. He was slightly tan, and taller than him. His messy black hair looked really soft and gave him a carefree appearance, not like Draco's long blonde Hair tied in a ponytail at the back of his head. He wanted to apologize, ask the boy his name, but the boy muttered a quick apology and Draco's heart beat faster at the sound of his voice. But just like that they were walking off again and Draco just managed a backwards glance.

They left a week later, but the boy was on Draco's mind the whole time, those green eyes and pink lips and Sun kissed freckles. He managed to ask the fishmonger if he knew the boys name, and it wasn't given to him, but where he could find him was. And in the end He did. He never forgot that boy.

Life was almost back to normal, Although as the months passed his parents shared more uneasy looks with every mention of the war at the border happening with the Germans, how their soviet troops had pushed through the barriers and barricades of the Germans and were nearing Warsaw. And as the children played, Draco now too old, watching them from his window as he sketched yet another drawing from the boy he saw a month or so ago, he knew he was going to get drafted the Moment he turned 18.

Then the war came to his village.

It all changed then, although he heard parents trying their best to hide their children from the dark reality of why they heard whistling overhead and why groups of scary looking soldiers marched through their city weekly, coming into houses unannounced and raiding places to see if people were hiding, he knew it had begun. And the draft calls were coming in.

He wasn't old enough yet. He was still 17, but he lied. He'd heard enough. He'd heard how the Germans invaded the radiostaion in Gliwice, how the Luftwaffe was bombarding Westerplatte and slowly getting closer to Warsaw. And that's where they were needed. And he was going to fight. He was for once going to make his father proud.

When he'd told them he got in, his mother cried for days. His father just gave him a nod. It was all he needed. And with his bag, hair freshly cut to a shorter length, and a few drawings of the boy that he dreamt of after nightmares to calm down, in his Pocket, he went off. He didn't look back, and just went straight to the trucks.

In a few months he was deemed fit enough. To join the battalion at the barricade, to fight against the Germans coming from the West. He was one of the smaller ones due to his age, but he was determined. And they didn't care They just needed people. Men and women alike.

It wasn't long before they got the call, only a day or two after arriving at camp. They were needed. So In the night they geared up, hand guns in holsters, bigger ones on their backs, helmets and gloves and boots. It was all So heavy on his body but not as heavy as the silence that surrounded them, only breaking as they neared the field and heard the gunshots. It was only then that Draco realized: he will kill and possibly be killed. His hand held the drawing of Harry tightly in his pocket, muttering one more prayer, before he ran out onto the field, helmet low, gun out.

He was on the battleground in the city for around 3 hours now. Laying on his stomach, Face dirty, eyes stinging from smoke and tears, the city around them falling apart. They had barely any shelter in the ruins now, and he was forced to cover behind some sand bags and a low wall, his face only looking out, gun pointed.

Every time he could, he prayed. He wasn't a religious person but this gave him hope, and hope was all he needed.

He released that it wasn't enough when a new group of Germans charged through, bullets whizzing past, another fight breaking out. Hope wasnt enough when he was hit in the shoulder and in adrenaline shot the soldier that caused him to start bleeding.

Hope wasn't enough for when the dead German soldier fell, he looked over his rifle at the one standing behind him, and froze. He was taller and more muscled, but he could recognize that face from anywhere. He'd drawn it enough times.

Harry.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Harry hadn't meant to get tangled in the wrong side of a loosing battle. By paying homage to his hometown of Berlin, travelling one day, he met a strangely dressed man who spewed something about aryans and the superior race. Harry didn't believe it, but his country was beginning to be threatened. He felt a strong sense of home, and loyalty to Berlin— it had been his home longer than any of the rest of the places.

Harry's considered hiding when they'd began drafting from the newly 18 year-olds at his last orphanage. He understood when he heard the whistles, and had to get the children to the basement. He covered their tiny bodies with his own, before he was drafted.

Yet, he'd kept the locket of the Russian boy. The Russians were not their friends, but Draco was, in his mind. Cardiff had been Harry's last stop before Berlin— he'd watched Draco go anywhere, from behind corners and benches and buses. Watched his pretty blonde hair cascade over graceful shoulders.

The last orphanage he was in had been religious. Harry prayed then, and he prayed now, under his breath, choking on words as he looked at Draco from the wrong side. He watched Draco get hit. "No!" he yelped. Harry watched Draco hit a German soldier. "Sam!" Harry shot into action, pulling the soldier Draco had gunned down into his arms, checking his injuries. Sam was dead.

Harry stood, leaning against a nearby wall and vomiting into a pile of rubble. There was blood on his hands, and not his own. His friend was dead, and by the hands of the boy he thought he loved. Bullets flew past his head like rain, and Harry dropped to the ground, trying to be the smallest target possible. Army crawling across the cobblestone street to his gun, he loaded. He didn't know what he was supposed to do in this situation.

He thought back to the night Draco was leaving Cardiff. He'd watched the boy's parents go ahead, and the blonde boy had leaned down to tie his shoe. Harry raced forward, snapping that picture that sat just between his collarbones. He'd also grabbed onto Draco's hand, pulling him with force into his arms. "I'm Harry." he whispered quietly, and pressed the softest of kisses to Draco's cheek. That was before Harry was chased away by dock police— earlier he'd stolen a few fish for the kids at the orphanage. "I'LL SEE YOU AGAIN!" he shouted, running down the dock with the camera in hand.

Harry felt like puking again.

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Draco's hands shook. He just killed a man. He just... He was dead. And worse enough, he almost shot Harry. Harry... He dropped with his rifle to his chest, eyes wide, shaking. He killed an innocent man. He could have killed Harry. He could have...

In the roaring and bright lights of gunfire, Draco's mind cast back to that time when they were leaving. When the boy caught him unaware. When he took a photo of him. The smile... The kiss on the cheek. His eyes glazed over, and He pressed his dirty fingers to his right cheek, and a single tear dripped down his face dusted with blood and dirt and cement powder. Harry shouldn't be here. He shouldn't...

He was taken out his trance when a dead body of a Russian soldier fell beside him, the sounds all coming back, his left shoulder and forearm bleeding and dirty from the gunshot. He would live. It was just some blood. But he didn't say that to himself when he struggled to move the body off his leg. It was then when he saw it had no face. It was blown to pieces. His scream was stuck in his throat.

He pulled himself up, aiming the rifle but not going to use it any time soon. It was his only source of protection. It was then that he realised... This was no place for him as much as it was for Harry. They were teens stuck in a war. They had no choice.

He didn't know what to do. In a flurry he took out the drawing of Harry from his pocket, still clean and neatly folded despite the war going on. He wrapped it up in a piece of cloth he found, accidentally getting some blood on the back of it, and threw it over toward the boy, his eyes blurry once again with smoke and tears. He felt bile rise up in his throat as he looked back down at the mangled face of that dead soldier. He never made friends on the battalion. There wasn't time to even train them. They just needed anyone and everyone. While Harry looked like he'd been working out.

His cheek stung with memory of the kids, how he cried into his pillow at night wanting to cherish the slow Slowly fading feeling of it. But the moment He saw the boys face it came back. He prayed Harry saw the thing he threw over. It wasn't a grenade. It wasn't a grenade...

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Harry didn't know what the piece of cloth was. He raced forward, throwing his body over it. Fellow soldiers screamed grenade, but it never blew. German soldiers went back to their line of duty. Harry slowly moved the bundle, taking it out, unwrapping the drawing.

Harry felt his heart shatter. It was his own face, but littler. Like he'd been when Draco was in Cardiff. He got him down to the smear of oil on his right cheek, from fixing the fishmonger's boat that day. Draco remembered everything.

Harry unlatched the necklace, pressing it to his lips once, and wrapping it in the cloth. He threw it to Draco, before disappearing into the lines of battle.

The bodies began to pile. Harry watched his friends and battalion mates die, watched their bodies gather in great mountains. Harry'd killed a few Russian soldiers, watching out for blonde hair, or even beautiful eyes. With only two people remaining, the lone two German soldiers retreated.

Running through the streets of Warsaw, Harry felt his heart pound in his chest. He was too young to die. Not like this, not without having a partner, not without having his first kiss. He felt for the locket as he sprinted through alleyways, remembering it.

Tears streamed down his puffy cheeks. He was dirty, bruised. He'd been grazed by a bullet on his side, it was bleeding a small amount. His hands were bloody.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

Dracos eyes widened when even when they thought it was a grenade, Harry ran to cover it with his body. Fuck... No. No. That was enough for draco to know there was a high chance Harry wont be getting out of this alive. The thought itself almost made him want to run to the general, to force him to wave the white flag. But he would have been hung for his cowardice. Hes seen the bodies in the market. He didnt want to end up like them.

He watched Harry open it and his face srunched up in a sob he was holding back when he saw the boys hands shaking as he looked over the drawing. He wanted to shout, to tell him he wasnt going tonlet anyone kill him, but then he saw Harry reach for his chest. Draco froze. He thought the boy had been shot.

But then a glint of metal. A necklace, pressed up to the boys usually pink lips from when he remembered them, now black with dust and dirt. He then took it off his neck, wrapped it up and threw it back. Draco crawled to retrieve it, narrowly missing another Bullet that whizzed past his ear. He flung himself over the wall and with shaky hamds opened the cloth. A locket. And inside...

He broke down, holding the tiny jewellery in his small hands. It had a picture of Draco. When Harry must have taken it the day the Malfoys were leaving. He clutched it to his chest, his breaths coming out ragged, fat tears falling down his cheeks. No...No.

He looked back over but Harty was gone. He panicked, tried to spot the messy dark hair or green eyes on the lifeless faces of the dead. He wasnt there. He wasnt dead. The germans soon retreated and there was a nightly peace. The Russians also went back to their camp half a kilometer away, between some buildings. The battle was at a standstill for now. Draco was taken to get his wounds taken care of. The bullet was still stuck in his arm. They didnt have many medications. He had to brave it out with iodine and soap.

Nobody slept that night. Nobody picked up the dead. The battle will continue soon, when The Germans were strong enough to return. But russians were not known for playing fair. And hence, in the early hours of the night, clutching the locket to his chest, freshly dried tears on his dirty cheeks, Draco was called. He was one of the smallest. He had to try and get into the German camp with one other. Rostrojevko, his last name was. He was tall and lanky. They had to try find any information and kill anyone they saw. They had to weaken the germans.

At first he hesitated but that meant... Harry. Harry he had to see Harry. So he agreed straight away. In the next 20 minutes they were walking between the rubble, the smell of fire and blood thick in their noses. The saw the lights of where the Germans set up camp between two old towers. They decided to split up. He knew Harry was injured. He went towards what looked like the infirmary. There were only 3/4 soldiers patrolling. He snuck inside the outer wire. He was outside the tent. And thats when he saw him, illuminated by the Light in the infirmary, Harry. In a bed. Bandages around him. He wasn't sleeping, or so Draco thought. He waited patiently, his hands clutching the locket, praying his cover wasnt blown, praying Harry would turn aroumd and see him, in the darkness, blonde hair over his eyes.

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Harry had dropped in the street, the last soldier carrying him to the infirmary. Albrecht, his name was, carried him into the infirmary, unceremoniously dropping him onto the bed, and calling for a nurse.

Of course, Harry'd flirted with the nurse. Brushed her hair behind her ear, gave her a kiss on the cheek for wrapping him up. It didn't mean much. It never did with him, except for a certain Russian blonde boy.

Harry was resting quietly, the only one in the infirmary that night, besides the nurses. His eyes were shut, until he heard shuffling, noises. His eyes popped open, and he reached for his gun.

His eyes scanned the dark room, hands shaking on his gun. His eyes were wild, and terrified. Until he saw the blonde.

His gun clattered to the floor, and he moved, running to Draco, entangling the shorter boy into the tightest of holds. He knew it could only be him. His body had slammed into Draco's, choking back tears. "I don't know your name," he whispered softly, nose in the shorter male's neck at an awkward angle. He was trying so hard not to cry. Harry was so dirty— but so was Draco. His tears cascaded down his cheeks, clearing the dirt from his young face.

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Draco froze when he saw Harry reach for his gun, and raised both hands up in surrender, the lockets chain wrapped around the fingers of his left hand, locket itself resting in his palm. It was only when Harry noticed him and the gun dropped, that he realosed he was running towards him, and he almost made a noise when Harry bsrreled into him, hugging him as though holding on for dear life. Though, Draco thought as he hugged back just as hard, that wasnt far from the truth.

He felt harrys face against his neck and his chin shook before his own tears joined Harry's, his pale fingers gripping onto the boys dirty uniform, his right hand stronger than his left. He heard the whisper and replied, thank God gis mother taught him German when he was younger.

"I'll tell you my name, but not here. Too risky" he whispered back into Harry's ear, lips grazing the dirty skin. Harry's voice was low and handsome, nothing like he remembered from the dock. but They had to move before he was seen. He

Grabbed the boys hand with his right one and began to run, away from thr camp, thr night being their safety blanket, only stopping after a few minutes, behind a house that had a massive hole in the back wall, looking into a living room that was wuite untouched. He finally stopped, breathing heavily. Damn lungs.

He didnt wait and turned to face Harry, now safer, still grabbing onto him like all this was fake... All a dream and he was actually back in his infirmary. "Draco" he spoke quietly. "My name is Draco"


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

When Harry's eyes caught sight of the shadows of the chain, he knew. He knew that this was boy, that this was his Russian.

It felt like a dream, running through the streets and alleys of warsaw, gripping onto the pale and delicate hand. Harry stopped, short of breath, grasping his side. The stitches had opened up.

He winced, holding the bandage as it slowly became bloody again. He hissed out a breath, looking into Draco's eyes. Harry held onto Draco as if he were going to lose him.

"I can... speak.." he thought for a moment, trying to speak Russian to the other. "I can speak Russian. Not good at Russian," he shook his head, the German equivalent to the words spilling from his lips. "German and English. Better," he choked out, stuttering on the Russian words.

"Draco." he whispered, the German accent twisting it. "It.. nice meet you," he answered in broken Russian. "Although I feel I've known you my whole life," he added in German.

His hands pulled the drawing from his pocket, handing it back. It had a bit of blood on it, showing on the corner from the wound in his side.

Harry was dressed in his uniform pants and boots, but shirtless waist up. The blood was gathering on the bandages more.

He surged into Draco again, coughing out an apology, hands finding purchase on Draco's uniform. "I did... It not, be like this—" he choked out, in awful Russian.

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Draco froze when he saw the blood slowly staining Harry's bandage. No. No No no. He sat him down, leaning against the wall. He was going to tell the boy not to speak as he searched in his pockets for any sort of sharp object he could use or a lighter to seal the wounds. His hands shook, and he looked to Harry with big silver eyes. Then the other boy spoke.

He held back just as tightly, now that the boy was sitting down Draco sat softy on his legs, hugging him tightly, but carefully. He heard the broken Russian and smiled at the boy, hands going back to searching. His eyes tore away from the boys toned chest back to what he was looking for. He found it. A needle in a piece of cloth. He began to try to rip a thread out of his uniform and look for a lighter.

"We can speak German or English. I can understand you, Harry. You're okay. You're okay love. You're okay" his voice shook as his silver eyes met green. He smiled when he heard his name fall from the boys chapped lips. He nodded. "Yes. It's me. Its Draco. The boy you bumped into in the docks those years ago." He spoke German. "It feels like I've known you that long too." He sighed and finally found a lighter. Buy his eyes looked up to harry's face once again when he moved, seeing the tear tracks I'm the sort on his cheeks from before.

He saw the drawing and his breath shuddered in his chest, and he presented Harry the locket, a bit dirty from his hands, a corner of the picture wet by his tears in the infirmary.

His heart stopped when Harry coughed. No. No No no. They just found each other. He had to do something. He had to patch him up enough to take him back. To put his Russian uniform on his and take him back to his camp, to make sure He was healed. His hands made quick work of threading and sterilizing the needle as he heard the broken Russian. He shook his head. "No. Listen Harry you are not dying on me. Not yet. Please" his voice broke and as he applied pressure to the wound with his bandaged arm, he cupped Harry's cheek with his other hand. He couldn't let him die, when though hope was falling through his fingers like sand. Harry coughed again and Draco couldn't stop the tears. "Harry..." He sobbed out to the still conscious boy, before leaning his head forward and chapped lips met chapped lips, silver eyes closing as he kissed the boy. His lip quivered and the tears wouldn't stop, but he was kissing him. Finally. They found each other he couldn't lose him. He couldn't

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"Don't fret." he whispered softly, the English rolling off his tongue gently, holding Draco's hands. "I don't feel any pain," he gave a weak little smile. It was a blatant lie.

Harry's hands reached up, brushing the tears and hair from Draco's face, his fingers gentle. "You'll keep me safe." he whispered, taking the locket into his big hands. "You'll keep me close." he pressed a kiss into Draco's lips, feeling the chapped lips on his own. Their tears mixed, Harry's hands cupping the back of the blonde's soft neck.

Droplets began to fall from the sky. They intermingled with Harry's tears. His fingers caressed over Draco's cheek. "It's okay. _The rain can hardly hurt me now_." he whispered, his breathing becoming ragged. "You're here, and that's all I need to know," he pressed a kiss onto the male's jawline, the energy dropping from his body.

Harry shivered a little, growing weaker. He'd already lost too much blood from the running with Albrecht. The German sirens began to blare , the sound of gravel crunching underneath boots growing closer. "Draco," he whispered out, his eyes fluttering shut. "Just hold me now, and let it be. Shelter me," he whispered. "Comfort me," his hands found purchase, and with his last bit of energy, gripped at the jacket, the locket clinking on the ground. Harry lost consciousness but was not yet dead.

Draco pulled away, the needle having fallen somewhere on the ground. He was crying buckets now, ugly crying, shaking his head at Harry, pleading in broken whimpers "no. Harry no. Don't say that. Don't fucking say that. Please. Let me take you back." But he himself was too weak, to hurt to carry the boy that far back.

He looked up at Harry, his face scrunched up beneath the tears. No. No he wasn't going to lose him. He looked into harry's green eyes as the other boy tried and obviously failed to wipe the tears from his face, as more new ones came right after.

He hastily took his jacket off and placed it over Harry, along with his helmet, more of the blonde hair being seen. No. Harry was staying alive Goddamn it.

He sobbed into the kiss, his hand still in Harry's , the boys big one also holding the locket. "Harry..." His voice was broken. Rain started galling from the sky. "Harry please..." He pleaded weakly.

The ragged breath just sent another wave of tears to fall from Draco's eyes And he did as Harry weakly told him. He sheltered him with his body, his thin shirt getting soaked. His face was still looking at Harry's, jaw trembling as his tears mixed with the rain. No... His black hair was getting wet. He fixed the helmet. "Stay with me Harry..."

He flinched at the sirens and the sound reached them both. Yes. There were Germans coming. They will help Harry... But they will kill Draco. He had to make sure Harry was saved. Harry couldn't die... Harry.. Harry..

He held Harry in his arms, crying into his chest as the German soldiers neared them. He sheltered him from the rain, mumbling and crying out his name. "Harry... Harry..." He felt the locket fall to the ground as harry's grip loosened, and he screamed out in Russian "no! Harry no!"

The sounds were getting closer. "Please help! Anyone!" Harry couldn't die. Harry couldn't. But he was not waking up.


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

Harry drifted into consciousness one last time before the German soldiers collected his body. "Go.. Draco, you have to go. They'll kill you," he whispered, his voice weak. With his last bit of energy, he pushed Draco away. "Go." he whispered.

The sounds of boots crunching the gravel neared closer, and the German soldiers collected Harry's body from the ground, looking around. There was a Russian helmet, and coat and his body. The locket shattered under the force of a boot.

The tall German boy was nursed back to health again in the day. He was ready to fight again in two. Harry returned to the battlefield, a new troop of soldiers going out.

He looked across the field as they neared. Searching for the blonde haired boy, Harry's heart squeezed in his chest. He wanted nothing but to have his locket back, to have Draco's hands on his skin. He felt sick with anticipation, wanting to know if Draco had died. Harry would end his own life if Draco was gone. There was no purpose.

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Draco was pushed behind a wall before he could even protest and once he heard the boots get closer. He ran to hide in the house nearby. He watched as they picked Harry up, praying with his eyes shut. Praying Harry was going to be okay.

He winced when he saw the locket being crushed and waited a few minutes. They had walked off. It was deadly silent. Through his thick tears he ran out into the rain, picked up the locket, and put in his soaked clothes before running back to his camp. But he was hurt. Both physically and emotionally, by what's he had just seen, and he didn't know where he was going.

He then felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and his blood ran cold. It was a German soldier. "Russian. Spying on us?" The older man growled and Draco fought with him as he was dragged back to the German camp and thrown into what was basically a cage in one of the darker tents. He was bruised and his left forearm was bleeding again. He couldn't do anything but cry, resting his Dizzy head on the floor before he passed out.

He was awoken with a slap to the face. Too bright. Germans. Three German. Nazis. That's all he could see through his blurry eyes. He was dragged up onto his feet, and he snuck the broken locket and chain into a rightly shut inside pocket of his trousers. It was safe there.

He was taken out with some other people who looked badly beaten and his blood ran cold as they were taken outside. Was he going to end up like them?

They stood them in a line, the noises of the battle echoing among the broken walls around them. He obeyed. He was the youngest of the 5 men. He guessed They were all Russians. They were all stripped to trousers and a white shirt. Draco's bandage had been taken off his arm. He guessed he was out for a day or so, or that's what he heard the Germans muttering as they dragged him out.

He was taken out his daydream when he saw a Nazi officer pull out a hose and aim it at him. The water jet was so strong it was like a cannonball To his stomach, making him cry out and double over, falling to his knees and throwing up. Then as he wiped his mouth it hit him in the face, leaving it numb and throwing him back to hit his head on the floor. He was pulled back up, now clean and weak and barely able to stand. His arm was bleeding slightly again.

They were soon done with the cleaning and the prisoners of war were moved to another tent and chained up. Draco wasn't. They wanted him to tell them things.

Their methods of getting information out of him lasted an hour or two, until the sounds of the battle started to quieten. But as he was whipped and branded, he could only think of Harry. Harry must be alive. He had to.

The boy in question was obviously on the battlefield and one of the German soldiers was talking to him behind a wall. "They found a new Russian. They're going to try to get some answers out of him. Heard he's pretty young" the German said and shot over the wall blindly a few times.

Back in the camp the prisoners , now with the addition of a bruised bloody Draco, were stood by five wooden poles, their hands tied behind their backs. It was nearing night now, and the troops that were fit enough were gathered round to watch. Harry included.

The P.O.W's were tied to the poles, heads forced up, shirtless chests out into the open. A meter or so In front of them a Nazi officer paced, cleaning his gun.

If Draco could have cried out he would have but his throat was Too dry. This was it. He was going to die. He was going to die blood and mangled and... Harry. His eyes flickered back to the crowd. Harry! Fuck. He's alive. He's alive. He's okay. But... Draco was about to die. No. No No no.

"Shoot two tonight. Only two" the general passed the gun to one of the higher ranking soldier who paced the same path, looking at each man as the others watched in suspense as he raised his him and lowered it, thinking.

"Russian scum! Soviet pigs!" The jeering from the German soldiers was numbed out to Draco now. His Eyes locked on Harry's. Draco was crying now. He was crying badly, his face clean but the tears still visible. Suddenly a bang was heard, making him jump and the Germans cheered as the man on the far left slumped dead.

One down, one to go. He saw the soldier nearing him, not raising his gun till he reached Draco. The blonde was still looking at Harry, but he heard him stop. He tensed as he saw the gun raise to point at his head in the corner of his eye, as though slowed down. He didn't have the cliché thing of life playing before his eyes. No. All he saw was Harry. Healthy Harry. He was going to be okay. Draco saved him.

He still was crying, but he smiled at the German boy he had fallen in love with, tears passing over his raised cheeks, and mouthed 'I love you' before he braced himself for the gunshot to the head.


	6. Chapter 6

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But it never came. The bang did. And he jumped. But he was very much still alive. He slowly peeked open his eyes and saw the barrel of the gun pointing a the man beside him, who was dead. The soldier smirked at the shocked face still plastered on the limp body. Draco almost passed out.

"You!" The general pointed at Harry "untie the remaining ones and throw them back and chain them up. Leave the bodies to rot" and they all walked away. Draco's knees gave way as the group disappeared and his head fell forward. He was loudly crying and shaking.

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Harry was brought back to camp after a bit, going unscathed from the latest battle. He never saw Draco, and grew concerned. He had nothing to remember him by anymore, had nothing of Draco's except the jacket and helmet. They were going to burn them, but Harry asked to keep them. To spy, he came up with the excuse.

Harry was sent into Russian camp and came back with nothing. He passed amongst soldiers for hours, and they didn't care. He looked frantically for Draco, asking people. No one had seen him.

He came back to an execution. Draco's execution. Harry's hand went over his unclean lips, holding back a sob. "Draco," he whispered out, knowing he couldn't help. His eyes watered, and tears dripped down his flushed cheeks. "Please, God, please." he gasped out, watching the scene before him unfold.

Harry couldn't watch, It hurt too much. He gasped out in German when the general pointed to him. "Ja, sir! Danke!" he shouted in response, running to Draco.

"Oh. Thank you, God, Thank you, God." he whispered, untying Draco, cupping his face, wiping the tears away. "Danke Gott," he whispered, rubbing the tears from his own face. "Danke Christus, Danke. Scheiße" he gasped out, pulling Draco into his own shaking body.

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Draco just about heard Harry running over to him over his sobs as they rattled in his chest, his jaw shaking as much as the rest of his body, unable to stand up with his tied hands and weak legs. He felt the boys fingers frantically untie the rope that was already leaving welts on his pale wrists.

When it was free he collapsed forward, feeling Harry cup his face, wipe the tears off only for new ones to replace them. He felt harry's chest against his cheek, heart beating so fast he thought it would escape the taller boy's chest.

His brain could only focus on one thing. Harry.

"Harry... Harry... Fuck I'm sorry... I'm sorry" he whimpered between sobs into the boys shirt. He found strength in his right hand and held onto Harry tightly. He was in harry's arms. He was safe. He was okay. Harry was alive. Soon the tears he was crying turned from ones of fear to ones of happiness.

He looked up at The boys face, now clean it looked much more handsome and defined"Harry I-i love you" he whispered

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Harry pushed Draco away from him. "Go. I need you to go. Go back to your camp, and I'll find you. We'll go away and be together. We can go to America and be in love. I love you. Go!" he whispered shouted, beginning to untie the other soldiers and take them back to the cage. "Russian word for sorry... ah.." he had to think.. "Prosti." he told the soldiers, helping them with care back into the cages. "The Brits are coming, my friend." he spoke in English, hoping they knew.

He returned to patrol that night, the Germans sending him to find the sick or dead, and count.

Harry was ready to run


	7. Chapter 7

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Draco pulled Harry in for one more kiss, cleaner and softer this time, his hands in the boys big ones. As he kissed he took out the locket, and placed it in Harry's hand. "I love you" he mouthed before a quick kiss to Harry's forehead, and he was off. He was running to the Russian camp.

It wasn't long before he got there, weakened out, bloody and shaking. They took him in. They threw him into the infirmary and began disinfecting and digging out the dirt from his wounds, no anesthetics. He screamed and cried but braved it all. Harry was going to come. Harry was going to wear his uniform and come to him, and they will run away. They will run away to Britain.

He was there for a few hours, passing out from the pain. They said they might need to amputate his arm. Bur he could already see the skin scabbing under the stitches. It kinda looked like a snake and something else. He wasn't sure.

It wasn't long before the sun went down, and he clutched onto the other drawing of Harry he had in his bag.

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Harry took the locket, and although broken, wore it with pride. He returned to the Russian camp later that night, around 1 in the morning, sneaking around until he found the infirmary tent.

The German held out the locket for the shadow, showing Draco it was him. He then snuck in, a smile spreading over his lips for the first time in months, but a shadow loomed behind him, a sudden bang sounding out.

Harry's hand went to his chest... he began to bleed. He doubled over onto the infirmary bed, gasping softly. "Draco, it— it—" he gasped out, looking into Draco's eyes.

The nurse with the gun was shaking. "Mr. Malfoy. Are you okay? I knew, he's— He's German!" she exclaimed, looking at the dying man on the bed.

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Draco saw Harry and smiled widely, getting out of his bed and his eyes watering. He was here. Harry was here they would finally leave. But then he heard the bang. He winced. He saw Harry's face turn from happiness to pain and shock, and he stumbled forward, red soaking his shirt. No... No No no.

He grabbed onto Harry with a scream "harry no! No No no! Harry... Harry!" He cried as he looked with fire in his eyes at the nurse with the gun. "You witch! You just shot my love! Get a doctor now!" He screamed, tears flooding his face, not caring he was waking people up in the other tents.

He cradled the boy in his arms, applying pressure to the wound as good as he could, pouring iodine on it to clean it, ripping Harry's shirt open as the boy fell onto the bed. "Harry no..." He croaked out, cupping Harry's face with one hand as the other tried to stop the blood flow. "He pressed his lips to Harry's forehead. To his cheeks, to his lips "Harry please... Please!" He begged.

They were going go run Away. They were going to be free. No. Not now. He saw the broken locket and fell into more tears as a doctor showed up. "So what if he's German! He's saved 5 of our men!" The 17 year old screamed at the russians, and they finally got to work. But he was losing Harry, cradling his head in his lap, his tears on Harry's cheeks. "Harry... Harry...." He rocked back and forth, crying, holding Harry's hand.


	8. Chapter 8

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Blood splattered onto Harry's chin, and stained his fingertips. He looked into Draco's eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks. "It doesn't hurt. I'm okay, remember?," he whispered weakly, oddly calm and serene, for dying. _"A little rain can hardly hurt me now,"_ he whispered, hand reaching up to caress Draco's cheek.

Harry thought it was raining because he was bleeding so much, not right in his mind. "meine leibe." he whispered, looking up into Draco's silver, shimmering eyes.

"Just hold me, meine leibe. Just hold me," his eyes began to shut, loosing consciousness. "Meine kleine Liebe. Ich liebe dich."

"It'll all be okay, in the end. You're holding me and I'll be alright," his German accent twisted the English words, a smile spreading over his lips.

Draco's wide silver eyes looked at harry, and he just silently shook his head, in shock at what had happened, wanting to kill the nurse, wanting Harry to stay alive. "Love its-it's not raining" he sobbed and lowered his head against Harry's shoulder.

He felt Harry cup his cheek and their tears mixed on Harry's face, Draco watching Harry get weaker and weaker by the second. He held Harry. He held him gently like he was fragile, moving his hair out of his face, seeing those adorable freckles. "It won't be okay if you leave me. Harry, please don't" he sobbed, his hands starting to shake. He was losing consciousness. The doctors couldn't do anything, they could barely fix draco's arm, they had no medical equipment and meds left.

He let out a broken cry, as Harry's eyes slowly began to glaze over. "Harry, I love you. Stay with me. Harry, please stay with me"he was begging now.

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The nurse recoiled in disgust, watching the two men share the tenderest of moments. "Sir.. They're sodomites." The doctor led her away, knowing they couldn't do anything for Harry.

"It's not?" he let out the smallest of laughs, before breaking into coughs. "Must be all the blood," he whispered, wincing once. Blood dripped from his pink lips, and he wiped it away.

"Don't fret," he reached up, pressing a kiss into Draco's lips. "Rain makes the flowers grow, meine leibe." he whispered, "I don't feel any pain. _The rain can't hurt me now."_

Harry smiled weakly at his love. "The rain will make the flowers.." he whispered, trailing off... "The rain will make the.. the flowers..." his eyes went dull, looking up at Draco's face. Harry died in Draco's arms.

The silence was deafening as the soldiers last words left his lips in a breath on Draco's cheek and it stung with the memory of the kiss, those years ago, masked by the tears not stopping now. His voice was broken. He was broken. His chest. His chest hurt. Harry was dead.

"Harry... Harry, please... It's not funny. It's not funny love get up. C'mon breathe" He begged but deep inside he knew there was no point. The eyes stayed glazed just as Draco's hands stayed bloody.


	9. Chapter 9

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Draco couldn't care less about what was going on around them anymore, he just looked into Harry's eyes as the boy spoke without thought. He saw the blood fill Harry's lips and helped him wipe it away from his prefect face, the blond not stopping his crying.

He sighed at the weak kiss, way too short, but Harry was talking. He nodded along with Harry. The rain made the flowers grow. Yes. "Keep talking Harry. My love, please. Please stay awake" but his whimpers got quieter and quieter as the light in Harry's eyes slowly does, leaving them cold and lifeless. "Harry?" His voice was small. "Harry... Harry no... No no no... Harry!" He screamed at the dead body, tears cascading down like waterfalls. "Harry! Harry no!" He wailed, bent over, the force of his heartbreak causing him to throw up behind him. He turned back to the dead boy in his arms. No... No!

He stayed like that for a few hours, begging and crying and wailing. But He couldn't stay here. He had to carry him back. He had to carry His love back. Here They would burn him. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't..

With whatever strength he found he gently closed Harry's eyes. He looked peaceful now. Like he was sleeping. Yes. He was just sleeping. He will wake up soon.

With blank eyes and a numb body, Draco stood up, carrying Harry bridal style. And in the darkness of the night, he made his way to the German Nazi camp.

He was crying the whole way through, muttering his lover's name. The darkness was slowly lifting as he reached the camp and yelled out. They ripped Harry from his arms. He didn't care they were dragging him to the posts the moment they saw it was one of their escaped prisoners. He needed to see Harry. **"Bury him! Bury him in flowers!"** He yelled as they laid the body down in the far corner. **"Bury him in fucking flowers!"** His voice broke as he started crying again and the Germans paid no notice to his pleading as he thrashed against the pole, hands back to being tied behind his back

His hands were tied up. The Sun was starting to rise along with the morning drizzle. The raindrops mixed with his tears as his head was forced up. But his eyes stayed trained on Harry's body. His love... His Harry.

He smiled through the tears as he saw the barrel of the gun point at his head once again, and he looked around at the ground and grass. Small buds of poppies and daises were beginning to show.

'Harry was right' he thought with a smile as he looked over the colours of red and white and yellow in the grass around Harry's body, as he saw the soldier grasp the gun with his finger on the trigger. It was pulled.

The blond didn't even hear the gunshot. Just got enveloped in darkness.

**'The rain will make the flowers grow'**

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all like it :)
> 
> Kudos and comments would be appreciated💚


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